


Fiyero Finds Out Something Mildly Devastating

by Dreaming_M



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Adultery, Other, Sexual References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_M/pseuds/Dreaming_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story behind 'Nor By Fiyero', the drawing Liir had in Son of a Witch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fiyero Finds Out Something Mildly Devastating

It was after a bout of love making, when Fiyero revealed the bread and cheese he’d brought to toast over the small fire that warmed Elphaba’s hovel. They’d tried something slightly different that night. Their romp had Fiyero slightly sore simply from sitting on the floor, but he’d enjoyed it well enough. It had been a long while since he was the one taken.

"You seemed familiar with the sensations, Yero, tell me, what has Sarima got tucked away in her Vinkus’ gowns?" Elphaba asks, sitting on the bed watching him, the rose patterned scarf around her waist still. Fiyero blinks a few times; it was rare Elphaba brought up his wife, but when she did he was glad. His heart was full and happy with them both. Though in this case, of course, Elphaba had no clue how insulting she had been; to imply an Arjiki Prince in his political situation did not have a wife with a womb. His children were his and Sarima’s; their parentage not a joke for Elphaba’s amusement; Sarima was not a joke. It made him personally hurt; his children were shy of him but he loved them.

"Nothing you would find odd, what with your years with Glinda." He said, keeping his voice even, mildly amused with the idea of shocking her. But she’s not shocked, and only shrugs a skinny shoulder in agreement. He bites into the toast with a mildly miffed crunch.

"She looks, I think, more familiar then you do." He adds, glancing in between Elphaba's slightly parted legs. "No woman has bedded me in your way, after all." He adds cheekily.

He’s testing now; still unsure if it was one of his blue diamonds embedded in Elphaba’s skin or something she was born with. But on closer inspection, simply peering closer when she was asleep; Fiyero had never held a woman who looked quite like Elphaba. Of course, her green skin, but also under his scarf she always wore.

Elphaba had sat back, letting the shadowa from the small fire cover her; doesn’t show her face. Fiyero almost wants to apologise. But he was a Vinkus man; he hears what the Ozians and the Muchkins say about their women; hairy, ugly and barbaric. Sarima was pale and plump and precious to him. Elphaba may have a part of his heart but she was still a Munchkinlander after all.

"I’m sure Sarima is more of a woman than I will ever hope to be." Elphaba says quietly. Fiyero stops eating, and stands with a frown. He was a Vinkus  _man_ , perhaps he had over-stepped.

"Elphaba." He says, but he pauses before he continues. "Glinda liked you deeply. All of you." He says softly. "I do too." Elphaba lets him kiss her once, but ducks past him, instead preying on his unattended bread.

He sits next to her, still tender, and watches as she spears the bread on a poker, laying the cheese carefully on top and holding it over the fire.

"Avaric," Fiyero begins conversationally, "he was the one who acquainted me with the sensations we …" he looks to her to try and place the words. His Ozian was fluent and academic thanks to Shiz, but sometimes words escaped to the far corners of his mind. "We were boys together." He settles on. He thought perhaps Elphaba would mock or tease him; her relationship with Avaric was of mutual antagonising after all; but instead she frowns.

"Why?" She asks him quietly.

Fiyero frowns. “Why you and Galinda?” He asks in return, bringing her old name from the time period, “He’s pale but handsome enough,” He smiles, hoping to draw another reaction from her, but Elphaba only frowns deeper. “I know you had your problems; but we only amused ourselves.” He says, watching her closely.

"Shit." She says, looking at his eyes intensely. It makes him shudder when she got like this. Hardly in a bad way. "You don’t understand - shit." She says again. He waits. "When you first walked in the door he said you were painted shit." Elphaba says.

Fiyero doesn’t know what to say. He says nothing, looking into the fire. Avaric thought his skin was shit? Didn’t stop his touches, or kisses back then. Didn't stop how he begged Fiyero to give him what he needed, in those nights when they were boys.

If Fiyero was honest to himself; he was a coward at Shiz. But more importantly; he was a boy. He was young and he was lonely. Elphaba and her gang took him in; befriended him after Croppe brought him. He needed friends. He was regal and proud before the university; a good hunter, a good leader among his peers. When he was there, though; he became meek, and shy. He looked back on those years with a tinge of disgust at himself.

When he and Avaric had first began their boyish romps, Fiyero privately saw it as a victory. A high born Munchkinlander in his bed? Surely it only showed Fiyero was superior; penniless and Princely; he was better than the other boy. But he had also wanted so much for them all to like him too.

Elphaba was eating her toast quietly, not wanting to disturb his thoughts, perhaps, or maybe trying to stop any more words from coming out of her mouth.

"Shit." Fiyero said, getting her attention, he can tell, but he doesn’t look at her. "Shit, really?" He feels an old ache of anger, but beats it down. He couldn’t be angry for childish slights. Avaric had too many connections. A small part of Fiyero still wanted Avaric to like him. "Maybe he was talking about his personality." He mutters.

"Or his behaviour?" Elphaba lets out a small giggle. The sound calms him, and he lulls his head, looking over to her as she tucks the last piece of his toast into her mouth.

He doesn’t know if it was good or bad of her to tell him. “You didn’t - ah, never mind.” He waves it off.

She knows, though. “I’ve never said disparaging things about the Vinkus, if that’s what you mean.” She sniffs, her sharp nose cutting through the air. “I knew Quadlings growing up, I know how people treat Animals and how people treat me.” She emphasises the last part, but he shakes his head.

"It’s not the same, you. You’re not a people, are you? You have no culture around you but theirs. Maybe that makes it harder for you. But you have no one you need to protect but you." She looks at him sharply, opening her mouth to speak, but he raises a hand to stop her. "Yes, yes the Animals. But that’s not your fight." He tells her. He can tell she disagrees, but right now he didn’t need to hear a Muchkinlander speak.

"The Arjiki have been and still are, at war with many other Vinkus tribes, but here in this green city I must ignore that. Because you ignore that. I must bare some humiliation and thoughtless words about me, and everything I am, but not all of it. I must protect my blood, as well as my flesh. I forgo many ancient grudges my people have with other tribes, and defend them from you." He tells her. Perhaps she understands but he doubts they’ll ever be equal in this. "I’m not a young thing any longer; I’ve learnt how to hold myself."

At this, she snorts. “Never once did you stumble or trip over your feet at Shiz. You were never gangly or awkward. I doubt you’ve ever not been able to hold yourself.”

"True in a way," He says, grinning boyishly now, hand sliding between his legs, but she bats it away and look at him, "and false in others."

He doesn’t want to talk about it now. “You know, looking at you, even if you weren’t green I don’t think you would be as white as you’d like.” He says instead. “You remind me of the Northern Vinkus; Sarima’s people. They’re pale but they’re not like you.” He says.

He can tell she doesn’t want to talk about this either. “Do your children look like her?” She asks.

He feels a little pang when she says it. “No, they have my colour. They play in the sun and get darker.” He says regretfully. He had hoped they'd take their mother's golden skin; it would make it easier on them when he becomes rich enough to send them to Shiz for schooling. He wanted things to be easier for them.

His children; the second born showed a promise he wanted to nurture, but everything was up to his eldest child. He wanted to take Irji, Manek and Nor to his tribe, out of Kiamo Ko, to be raised properly; but Sarima wouldn’t have it, and he did not want to leave her alone in that big castle. But maybe soon he could begin to groom an heir. Irji needed to become assertive and strong, Manek needed discipline, Nor needed training. He had much to do at home.

It was his daughter he was most concerned about. His only daughter, he wishes he had had just one more; two women ruling the Arjiki would be better than having to choose her eldest brother.

"Nor," He says, breaking out his revere. Elphaba had moved, she was writing at the table, but looks up when he speaks, "she is a shy girl," he says, standing and walking over to her, "she looks - wait, I’ll draw her!" He takes paper and a pencil and begins to sketch.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah Elphaba pegged him.


End file.
